He is standing there
On the edge of my vision
With mine eyes in his eyes,
My body the body of his hands.
In a clean forget he will
Soon take up his life and walk.
He cloaks my essence
In a delicate wild thing
That speaks for me when my
Words escape into a watchful sky;
Where stones disappear
Into a silken sphere.
Torn in a prideful burn
He preys tiredly, and weak
Until the rains rain drowns
Us both in a mindful sorrow;
Until we break and cry
Into the looming moon.
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